


Bandaged

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: ''that's not how the Force works'', (until kylo gets Feelings yikes), (yep that's hux), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Casual Sex, Depression, Dom/sub Undertones, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Sensuality, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:59:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8032345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: And then he'd guide him gently to bed, marking his desire down Kylo's neck. Blooms of red-blue-purple were ingrained deep beneath Kylo's flesh, chasing that terrible hole from his consciousness. There was only the beautiful pain: the unwanted healing.





	Bandaged

**Author's Note:**

> quick note: While the tags do note Depression and Major Character Death, there's no mention of suicide or suicidal thoughts.
> 
> This is my first Kylux fic in a while, and it's so different from what I've written before. (Definitely nudged a toe (or ten) out of the comfort zone here.) But I was inspired by [this fascinating work of art](http://sinningsquire.tumblr.com/post/150182016986/he-can-feel-the-general-fall-this-is-what). Thank you so much to the artist! And, to the readers, I hope I conveyed my interpretation of their art well.

There is a figure in black strewn across the floor. It is curled in on itself, shivering and quaking. Its black hair is matted and tangled, and it shrouds its face. Layered in sweat and twisted into terror, the face moans and groans to itself, shaping formless words.

The legs are tucked in, but one arm is outstretched. The other is pressed to its chest, clutching at a strangely shaped saber handle. Just beyond the outstretched hand is a data pad: its screen glows blue with unread messages.

 _[ten minutes ago]_  
_CAPTAIN_ _PHASMA:  
__Lord Ren, we’ve lost communication with the General._

 

* * *

 

When Kylo agreed to sleep with the General, he hadn’t thought feelings would be involved.

They’d both knew how _messy_ feelings could get. Their meetings, thus, would be routine. Clean, ordered; rationalized, packed away. Forgotten in the morning.

 Well. They were supposed to be.

 

* * *

 

_I don't ask for much,_

 the General had said.

  _Just_ _something to take my mind off of_

~~_how_ _fucking lonely I am_~~

  _the_ _paperwork._

 

And Kylo had replied, 

_I understand what it’s like_

~~_to feel cold and empty at 3:00 in the morning, when everyone else’s souls are asleep_ ~~

_to be responsible for so much power._

 

The General tugged at his collar, eyeing Kylo in the smudged darkness of the hallway.

_Is that a yes?_

 

Kylo's breath of laughter was ripped apart by his voice modulator.

_Yes._

 

* * *

 

A night of passion, a week of stifling corridors and glances of regret.

Oh, stars! And so much desperation. Their meeting was supposed to be one night, but one week passed and Kylo couldn’t help himself. The void had returned, and he needed someone to hold him and fuck him and pretend they cared.

Even if it had to be the General.

Kylo leaned back against the cool metal wall, indulging himself in his thoughts. The Force was with him, always. Or it was supposed to be. If he’d had the power, perhaps he wouldn’t need the General.

But there was something like a hole in Kylo’s chest. Perhaps it was where his heart was supposed to be - that would be something his mother would tell him, of course. She would tell him that killing his own father had carved a hole straight through his soul, had sold him to the Dark Side forever.

She was wrong.

The void had always existed, it merely opened up even further when he killed Han Solo. Yet the Dark would not leak through it. The void sat there, empty, and its walls continued to dissolve with each passing day. Sometimes he couldn’t breathe because of it. A strangling vise would creep from its depths, reaching upwards to wrap its icy appendage around his throat and squeeze, forcing him to choke and cough and empty his stomach on the spotless tile.

But as much as he hated the void in his soul, he hated its cure even more:

When he slept with the General, it was like being submerged in a bacta tank. Feeling came a little easier, the world became a little lighter, and the harshness of the Finalizer felt a little gentler under the General's care.

And the void didn't exist.

(Oh, trust him, he'd tried to rid of it in other ways. He and the Knights had gone through several -- often excruciatingly painful -- rituals in an effort to remove the Being's presence from his chest, but It was too ancient. Even he and they combined were unable to rid of its presence.

Strange, wasn't it, that the Force-deaf General could?)

The void lashed out at him every time when he punched the small buzzer outside the General's door, and that only made him press it again, harder, multiple times. Perspiration boiled his skin, his own being trying to escape his flesh in an attempt to flee the void that reared its head in fury.

The void was always not enough. The General would open his door, take in Kylo's ruined, sweaty form, and raise an eyebrow.

And then he'd guide him gently to bed, marking his desire down Kylo's neck all the while. Blooms of red-blue-purple were ingrained deep beneath Kylo's flesh, chasing that terrible hole from his consciousness. There was only the beautiful pain: the unwanted healing.

Kylo’s eyes would glaze over and he'd moan with the bed and shake with the ceiling, the world about him catching fire and burning, burning, _burning_ \--

then he would still with the cool of space.

And he'd open his eyes to the General tracing his name across Kylo's back, but not as he did across Kylo's chest (that was with his teeth). These were temporary ghostings. They said nothing, and so they would mean nothing.

But, damn it _all_ , they did mean something to Kylo. He might end with bruises ripped across his chest and a soreness throbbing between his legs, but that meant nothing in comparison to the void.

Because the void would grow. Whatever brief relief he gained from the General's company only fueled the flame.

He often wished it would just leave him be. What did this strange Being have with Kylo? (Had his uncle set a strange curse upon him? He wouldn't put it past Skywalker; he knew the old man never trusted him.)

Yet this curse could've just as easily come from the Force itself. What if Snoke was wrong? He was a wise man, but he could not be infallible. The Force lets the sensitive see only what It wants them to see.

What if…

What if he was never meant to kill Han Solo? What if this was his punishment -- life in death for committing patricide?

 

* * *

 

Kylo took a sharp gasp, a wild spasm shooting down his spine as he was thrown forward, back straight. He could feel the sheets around him drenched, soaking wet - where was he? The soft sheets bunched in his fists smelled of sex.

_Calm down._

He knew that voice - it was the General. This was the General's room. He had stayed the night after he'd clung to the other man's arm, pleading for a dose of mercy.

Kylo touched his cheeks, pulling away in shock at the dampness. Had he been crying?

_What's wrong, Ren? Nightmares?_

The General’s tone was teasing, but Kylo could feel an undercurrent of concern. (It was there - in the crack in his lilt. In the furrowed brow hidden by the dark. It _was_ there, he could _feel_ it.)

 _I'm fine,_ Kylo answered. _It's none of your concern. Go back to sleep._

He could feel the General's sharp green eyes linger on his heaving, sweating form a second longer. They raked across his nerves, taking in each and every uneven breath.

 _Alright._ Kylo could hear the General’s covers rustle, and the bed shifted with his weight. _Make sure the crew doesn't see you leave in the morning._

Kylo murmured his agreement, which satisfied the General.

He fell back asleep in an instant. Then only Kylo and his void were left to weather the night.

 

* * *

 

Kylo wanted to scream, but his tears had dampened his voice.

 

* * *

 

Kylo did not join the General the next week.

Instead, he sat on his bedroom floor and he reached out to the Force, trying to sink his fingers into its glossy fluidity. It was like catching smoke with his bare hands, but Kylo knew he could ensnare it eventually.

Wasn't he the most powerful Force user of his generation? Han Solo had told him that once, when he was five and crying behind his parents’ bed.

(A little girl had spit in his hair, had told him that his grandfather had killed hers. That the only crime her grandfather committed had been saving his wife from a flood. That his grandfather was a monster and that Kylo was, too, because he used his powers without consequence.

The teacher did not save him from the little girl. She watched him dissolve into the floor, a sliver of ice turning her eye from him.)

 _Hey, now,_ Han Solo had said, voice wavering in uncertainty. _Hey. Ben. Don't let her get t’ya, ok? What does she know?_

 _She's right, though,_ Ben had said in his small shaking voice (Kylo hated that admission of weakness). _Grandfather was very bad. Mom told me that._

Han Solo had sighed, softly. The punch had left his body; Ben/Kylo knew that Han Solo would then speak truthfully.

_Darth Vader was a scary guy. But your grandfather is Anakin Skywalker, y’hear? And he was a Clone War hero. And in the end he beat Darth Vader, a very bad guy. Your uncle helped him do that. We're the good guys. That girl was just… sad. Y’know? Sadness makes people do bad things, sometimes._

Now, sitting alone on his cold bedroom floor - shadows creeping along the walls as the circulating air let out their cruel laughter in wisps - Kylo could understand Han Solo.

Sadness really was a terrible thing to behold.

 

* * *

 

There was a buzz on his comlink. Blinking his way from sleep, Kylo sat up in his warm blankets, clumsily tearing at his hair in an effort to regrip reality.

 _Breathe, Kylo, breathe,_ he muttered.

The comlink buzzed again. Gathering his wits as best he could, Kylo tapped at the device.

A voice, laced with frustration, leaked through.

_Where were you last night?_

Kylo leaned back. His head clunked heavily against the metal wall, and he could feel its tired vibrations.

Where had he been, indeed.

~~_Clutching the remains of my charred, black soul. Hugging them to my chest, trying to fit the puzzle pieces back together. Except it’s not a puzzle, is it? It’s a fucking pile of trash. It’s useless. It’s not going anywhere because it has nowhere to go, and that’s why I’m fucking with you, isn’t it? Because I haven’t any other option._ ~~

Kylo couldn’t speak his damning words aloud. Instead, he said, dark eyes heavy and closed,

_Special Force training._

With no response, Kylo added, _Orders from Snoke. Sorry._

The General untensed, but he could not wipe the frown from his lips.

_Fine. Just… come tonight._

There was no ‘please’, no ‘I need you’. But Kylo could tell it was there (it _was_ ). Wasn't it nice to be needed?

The emptiness draining his veins didn't think so. It picked at his heartstrings with venom.

 

* * *

 

The General let loose a final groan before rolling off of Kylo's body, every inch of skin accidentally brushing the other releasing shivers of electricity. He settled on the opposite side of the bed, hair soaked in sweat and skin flushed from sex.

Kylo himself tried to settle down, but he could feel the post-coital warmth leaving him to make room for the void. Desperate to keep it at bay, Kylo grabbed at the General's hand - it was still warm. He hoped it would chase away the cold a little longer.

The General seemed to be in a good mood, as he indulged Kylo in the simple but dangerous act. (To use a person as a means to an end -- sex was one thing, and comfort another entirely.)

The air was almost still and quiet, their heavy breathing the only sound to keep them grounded.

Kylo was desperate to fill the silence. _I need to know._

_Know what?_

Kylo exhaled, preparing himself for whatever came next. Be it fury or confusion or something _nice_ , for once.

_Why?_

The General went stiff beneath Kylo's hand and beneath his single word. _Why what?_

 _You know,_ Kylo told him. _Why me?_

He pressed his free hand to his face, hand slack against his soft cheeks. _Damn it, Ren._

 _I can always probe your mind for the answer,_ Kylo warned.

(It was an empty threat. He couldn't treat the General the same way he treated the mindless troopers and disgusting Resistance. That was… distasteful. And he would no doubt regret it.)

_Who wouldn't want to lay with power?_

Kylo started, turning his head to lock gazes with the General. _What?_

 _I'm not repeating myself,_ the General said, tired.

Kylo turned back to watch the ceiling, stunned. _Thank you,_ Kylo tried to say, but his voice was strangely strangled. It didn't quite come out right.

The General made a noncommittal noise, and took away his hand back. The bed lifted as he left for a smoke.

Kylo could feel the void take his hand in the General's stead. He was chilled to the bone.

 

* * *

 

_Grandfather._

_Did you suffer this as well? Could you feel the cold settle on your shoulders like a blanket? Did it take the form of a terrible void? Was it what told you to follow the Emperor, to become a slave to a god?_

_I am a slave to a god, and it lives in my chest. I think the Force is calling to me through it, but. It hurts. More than anything I have ever experienced, more than I'd ever thought I could endure._

_Grandfather, give me the strength to carry on. I know that with your guidance, I can become more than this. I know that the Force will take me in as its child and champion, as it had you._

_Grandfather. Show me again, the power of the darkness._

_Help me._

 

* * *

 

 _Help me,_ he begged.

 _It's sex,_ the General said. _It's not supposed to help you, in the long run._ He took a long drag from his cigarette, a long black instrument. Elegant, yet holding death in its grasp (much like its wielder). The General blew the smoke back at Kylo: a challenge.

Kylo stepped off the bed, tugging a blanket around his midsection to cover his nakedness. It was dark in the General's room, and it was nothing the General hadn't seen before, but Kylo still felt wary about parading around naked.

The General had no such qualms, sitting spread-legged in his armchair, bathrobe open and covering nothing.

 _I know sex is nothing,_ Kylo said, _so isn't it natural that I want more?_

 _No._ The General's expression, first lightly amused, was now stone-cold.

Kylo wound the blanket a little tighter around his waist. _But, you don't understand --_

 _No, I'm not sure you understand._ The General stood from chair, placing his still-burning cigarette on an elegant tray. He turned to face Kylo, the chill in his eye scaring Kylo a step back. _You entered this agreement telling me you knew feelings couldn't get involved. I only went through with it because you told me you were mature enough to handle casual sex!_

 _I am!_ Kylo insisted. His face crumpled, he could feel it. Disgusted with himself, he wished he had his helmet. Then only he would be privy to his weak shame. _Just --_

 _Just what?_ the General snapped. He hadn't moved a single step, choosing to confront Kylo from afar.

(Kylo couldn't blame him. The Force was already gathered at his fingertips.)

 _I can't control how I feel,_ Kylo said desperately. _All I know is that it's more than your body for me. I can recognize your breaths and your footfalls - it's more than just the Force carving my senses, there's something about you that makes me feel complete. There's a void in my chest, Hux -_

Kylo stopped, realizing his mistake too late. The color drained from his face, an almost comical sight.

 _Shut up!_ the General hissed. He banged a fist to the table on his left, scattering a stack of papers. The room was dead quiet. _Shut. Up._

Kylo blinked, once, twice. Thrice. He felt like Ben Solo again, small and scared and alone.

_Leave me, Lord Ren._

Kylo almost said _no_. He almost said something else, too. Something very, very bad. Something that would kill the General if he knew. Something that he'd only just realized, hanging limp from the arms of a bright, bright passion.

But all he wanted was the General to be happy, so he left.

 

* * *

 

~~_Hux, you don't understand._ ~~

~~_I love you._ ~~

 

* * *

 

The next First Order weapon was nearing design completion.

Kylo knew because it was all the General could think of. When he walked down the bridge alongside him, he would glimpse at his thoughts ( _not_ rifle through them) to see if Kylo occupied any.

He didn't. But the precious weapon was in each and every one. This weapon was another Starkiller-type large-scale project, as far as Kylo could tell, and it was to be far more formidable than Starkiller Base.

The General was to leave the Finalizer to oversee some minor details. Even after the failure of Starkiller, Snoke was willing to give the General one last chance.

And he took it very seriously. The General's position meant a lot to him.

But the General meant a lot to Kylo, despite his cruel and stubborn nature. Despite his apparent lack of reciprocal care.

He would be leaving in two days time for a strange new Outer Rim territory - an ice planet not unlike that of Starkiller. He'd heard there were pirates in those regions, and strange, ancient creatures which roamed the space and skies. Explorers died from the cold, and armies perished in the ice. It was naturally hidden and fortified. A danger the rest of the galaxy was better without.

 _It’s perfect,_ the General would gloat in his mind, visions of glory shining in his eyes like gold.

The growing pain in Kylo's chest spoke otherwise.

 

* * *

 

_Before you go…_

The General looked up from his suitcase, and scowled at the dark, cowled figure in his doorway.

_I told you to leave. I meant for you to stay away._

_I know,_ Kylo said. _But I had to see you off._

 _It's a week, Ren!_ the General snarled, throwing the cover of his suitcase shut. The click resonated through his very being.

 _I know!_ Kylo insisted once more, unable to stop the hurt that stabbed him through the chest. _I know, I know! I just can't shake this --_

 _What?!_ the General snapped. His eyes flashed, and he crossed his arms. He was tired, he was angry, and Kylo knew that he could hardly last much longer.

He hadn’t noticed the dark rings beneath his eyes when he let the General claim him in the night. Nor had he noticed the red-rims that whispered of long days and even longer nights. In fact, the General looked about ready to collapse. His clothes seemed to hang off his wiry frame, threads losing their luster.

~~_So the Force is punishing you, too._ ~~

Kylo clenched, unclenched his fists; sudden fear and adrenaline set his veins aflame. _I have a bad feeling about this!_ His voice broke, and he stumbled over his own damn heart. _Please. Please, please don’t go. Don’t leave._

The General stared at him, fury draining from his very pores. _I have to go,_ he murmured, dragging his eyes away. He stepped back towards his suitcase, movements slow and hesitant. _I can’t ignore my duties because you have ‘a bad feeling’, Kylo._

 _I know,_ Kylo said tentatively. He moved closer, opened his arms. Wrapped them around the General, breathed in his faintly unwashed smell, and buried his fingers in the soft fabric of his uniform. He pressed his nose into the General’s shoulder.

He ignored the sudden wetness that tarnished his face, and he ignored the dry, heaving shudders that wracked through the General’s very being.

~~_Oh, Hux._ ~~

 

* * *

 

The void ceased to suck at his chest. Instead, it merely sat there, motionless and cold.

Kylo wasn’t sure what was worse - the constant dissolution, or the cold weight he could never shrug off. Now that the General was gone, the void seemed to lack care. It wouldn't torment him, but it couldn't leave him, either.

Kylo went through the motions of routine in a state of lethargy. The omnipresent threat of the General's danger loomed over his thoughts, clouding everything in shadow. He couldn't concentrate during Force meditations. Something felt _wrong_ every time he picked up his saber, something stung at his hand and pecked at his conscience.

Even Captain Phasma took notice. She placed a chrome-covered hand on his shoulder one day on the Bridge, a rare show of affection. He must've looked truly terrible for her to reach out like that.

_He'll be fine, Lord Ren. You need to retain your own health._

_And how can you presume to know?_ It came out more desperate than condescending; Phasma’s distant sympathy hardly helped the matter.

_His pilot contacted us yesterday, Lord Ren. Everything is in order._

_I hope so,_ Kylo said bitterly, _for your sake._

~~_And for mine. And for his._ ~~

He swept off the Bridge, dragging his fury and despair out with him. The crew seemed to stiffen as he passed -- a side effect of his tenuous relationship with the Force or his natural atmosphere, he couldn't know.

Kylo hardly made it out the corridor when he slammed a fist into the wall, hard. The tightening of his muscles and the thud against the dark metal could hardly calm his soul. He craved the blinding power that came with using his lightsaber --

No. No, not that.

He deflated. The hole in his chest -- his soul hole, ha -- had become a vacuum, pulling in the fight from his blood. There was nothing for him in destruction. The intense salvation he'd once pulled from the act of erasure felt like an empty act. What could compare to the General? Who could compare with his brilliance, his vividness?

Images flashed across his mind:

Visions of naked, writhing bodies and blooms of red and purple; thoughts of the General pressing his knee into the small of his back, the pain that flowered from that; the sweet, sweet blankness that let him feel something other than the void when the General pressed into the bundle of nerves.

Kylo’s lightsaber was in his hand; its cool weight, practically shivering, in his palm.

What would the General say?

Would he commend him for not destroying his ship? Or would he call him weak and child-like for succumbing to his emotions? Maybe he would do neither -- perhaps he would ignore Kylo as he always had before outside the bedroom.

Kylo let loose a breath he couldn't remember holding. It tore from his chest with a terrible pain as it brushed the void of his soul. Agonizingly deep, the fresh pain turned to pricks and needles as Kylo gasped for breath, eyes fluttering open-shut.

 _Fuck,_ Kylo wheezed, doubling over from the sheer torment of it all. _Fuck, fuck, fuck --_

He needed to return to his quarters.

Something was not right.

 

* * *

 

 

Boots clunking down the hallway, Kylo raced his own heartbeat back to his door. The void was throbbing now, with the awful chill that threatened to lock his knees and force him to the ground raking it's fingers through his hair fingers teasing his scalp.

Kylo grabbed at his door when he arrived. He clawed at his room's keypad, hoping wildly for a miracle. Sweat dripped in his eyes and clouded his vision: Kylo could not see.

 _I'm here, Hux,_ he tried.

The door swept open, and he threw himself, stumbling, into the cold room.

But he did not fall in the arms of his lover.

 

* * *

 

The ice-wind scratched at his armor. He could feel their jagged edges scrape the ground as well, and he could not help but feel sorry for it. Kylo knew all too well the might of the seemingly useless.

He shielded his eyes from the stinging wind, ignoring the red gashes the ice-wind carved in his cheeks. It tangled his hair, throwing strands in his eyes and impairing him even further. He tried to claw them away and free his sight, but to no avail: it was impossible to see through the dense fog and snow.

Kylo reached out to the Force, and was surprised by the wave of pure energy that returned his call. He stared down at his hands, stunned. The saber in his hand hummed -- the Force was with them.

But his feet were frozen to the snow-covered floor. Kylo opened his mouth to shout for help, and was silenced by his own vocal cords.

 _A gift from the Force,_ something breathed in his ear. _Watch. Listen._

Confused, Kylo blinked his eyes apart, trying to focus on a dark figure in the distance. It was small, but Kylo could tell it was in motion. It waved a limb -- an arm -- and Kylo almost waved back. The figure was familiar… maybe important, even.

A sudden fear strangled his spine.

He’d walked into his room asking for the General. Of course the Force would deliver like this -- of course it would be this way. His fears for the General had been founded, after all.

His heart lodged itself in his throat and squeezed.

Now that he was privy to the truth, the distant figure seemed more clear. He could make out the brilliant shock of red hair he’d held so dear, which at once thrilled him and make him feel sick.

There was something else, too. Something was wrong with the ice-wind. It seemed to be pulling around the General, trapping him in a strange and unnatural vortex.

Kylo tried to take a step forward, then remembered, heart sinking rapidly, that his fucking feet were frozen in place.

_You can’t move._

_You must let me,_ Kylo begged, hoping the Being could hear his thoughts, ignoring the pins and needles digging into the folds and whites of his eyes. (No doubt It could -- It had to be a creature of the Force.) _You must let me go; he needs my help! Oh, fuck, he’s going to die! Do you hear me? He’s going to die!_

_As the Force has willed it to be._

Kylo’s heart threatened to pound straight through his chest. It was a terrible, violent attack that nearly left Kylo in tears once more. (Was this how his grandfather felt, when the Force took Padmé and Shmi?)

_No!_

_Poor, weak child. This is to your benefit._

Something inside Kylo crushed in on itself. _I-I don’t understand._

_You will._

The figure in the distance -- the General -- suddenly disappeared --

(Kylo cried out before he could stop himself, the Force pushing back on him as he leaned forward, arm outstretched)

\-- only to reappear again, facing Kylo.

Terror shone in his eyes, he cried out for Kylo, he reached out a hand; Kylo could see it now, in front of him, reaching out to his chest, but Kylo wouldn't take it, _I'm dying, what did I do, why won't you take it?_

And, _oh,_

he could feel the General fall.

 

* * *

 

_Grandfather._

_The pain was unbearable._

_It was as if my spine had folded in on itself and thrust itself out my body in a single movement. Or like fire had been set to my nerves. Like being shot in the back, then having a foot pressed back into the wound. I could feel blood leaving my body. Energy. Every good thing in the world possible, ripped from my body and soul in a deft swoop._

_It still hurts. There is a sore where my heart should be._

_The void had taken all feeling from me, but when the General fell, it was like everything had been returned and all at once._

_I can feel everything, Grandfather. Grandfather, I'd rather feel nothing again._

_Grandfather. Hear me. Help me._

 

* * *

 

There is a figure in black strewn across the floor. It is curled in on itself, shivering and quaking. Its black hair is matted and tangled, and it shrouds its face. Layered in sweat and twisted into terror, the face moans and groans to itself, shaping formless words.

The legs are tucked in, but one arm is outstretched. The other is pressed to its chest, clutching at a strangely shaped saber handle. Just beyond the outstretched hand is a data pad: its screen glows blue with unread messages. 

 _[ten minutes ago]_  
_CAPTAIN PHASMA:  
_ _Lord Ren, we’ve lost communication with the General._

 _[seven minutes ago]_  
_CAPTAIN PHASMA:  
_ _Lord Ren, we believe the General may be in serious danger. We will be sending a reconnaissance team. Do you intend to take part?_

 _[four minutes ago]_  
_CAPTAIN PHASMA:  
_ _Please respond by the next two minutes._

 _[two minutes ago]_  
_CAPTAIN PHASMA:  
_ _Lord Ren, we're about to depart._

 _[now]_  
_CAPTAIN PHASMA:  
_ _Lord Ren?_

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know that the original artwork has Hux falling battle. Sorry. :( I really liked the smoky white background and kind of built off that instead.
> 
> Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> (And yes -- "life in death" was a reference to 'Rime of the Ancient Mariner'. Make of that what you will. :))


End file.
